


Sway

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Related, Established Relationship, F/M, Fic, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-06
Updated: 2011-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A year ago, if you'd been planning something like that, I'd have threatened you with prison and put you under house arrest. Six months ago, I'd have been hovering over your tracking data. Now—"</p><p>Episode tag for 2.12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sway

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to bethbethbeth and nagasvoice for beta.

Neal slumped flat on his back, his chest heaving, skin glowing warm against the cream cotton sheets. Peter moved up the bed, collapsed next to him and slung one arm low across Neal's waist. He was half turned on again from getting Neal off, but too tired to do anything about it. Besides, something was troubling him.

Neal turned to kiss him, and Peter responded briefly, then got up on one elbow. "You know, Diana said if I'd wanted to stop you stealing the drive, I would have."

Neal blinked at him, blue eyes still hazy with pleasure. "Did she have a method in mind?"

"She said I could have chained you to a desk." Peter gave him a small smile, then sobered. "A year ago, if you'd been planning something like that, I'd have threatened you with prison and put you under house arrest. Six months ago, I'd have been hovering over your tracking data. Now—" He shook his head and tried to voice his misgivings. "Now we have this going on—you, me and El—it's different. I can't stop you from doing stupid things anymore, and I won't always be able to protect you from the consequences."

"You come through for me when I need you." Neal punched his chest lightly. "I know that."

"Contrary to what you seem to think, I'm not omnipotent. Some things are just out of my hands." Peter sighed and lay down to frown at the plain white ceiling of his and Elizabeth's bedroom.

Neal rolled to face him, kissed his jaw, then his mouth, his hand sliding to Peter's hip, tempting him. Classic distraction technique.

"Neal!" Peter pushed him away and met his gaze. "Please. Promise me you'll be careful."

"I'm always careful," said Neal. Peter raised his eyebrows, and Neal grinned shamelessly. "Mozzie makes sure I'm careful."

Peter groaned and flung his arm over his face. "I should be paying him a retainer."

"As my keeper?" Neal sounded amused.

Peter lowered his arm and looked at him, the wicked gleam in his eye, the curve of his lips. Like a lamb to the slaughter. One of these days, his luck would run out. "Someone's got to look out for you," said Peter, "and I know you don't tell me everything."

"Plausible deniability," said Neal, too quickly. They both knew it was an excuse—especially now they were doing this. Deniability had long since flown out the window. Neal's gaze wavered. "I'm trying."

"I know," said Peter, pulling him into his arms. "It wasn't a criticism." He pressed a kiss to Neal's temple and Neal curled in close, hitching his leg across Peter's, the familiar scrape of the anklet abrading Peter's conscience.

Peter counted their breaths, giving Neal all the time he needed to continue. Peter had known, when they started this, that it would get complicated. There were reasons for the fraternization rules—some obvious, others which were only starting to surface. Neal was his partner now, and Peter couldn't in good faith exert his authority to control him, beyond what was normally permissible between adults and team members. He couldn't use threats or legal restraints—and that made the situation precarious for all of them. The only way through was to trust him.

Neal circled Peter's nipple with his fingertip, the gesture more meditative than seduction. "I learned something important from you," he said slowly. "'Do what's right, and let the pieces fall where they fall.' The law isn't always right, Peter. You know that."

"The solution to a bad law is to work to change it, not to break it," said Peter. He'd had this same discussion over a decade ago, in a cafeteria in Quantico: the ethics of enforcing bad laws. There was no real answer, just the lesser of two evils.

Neal looked up from his contemplation of Peter's chest. "That takes time. You're saying you don't believe in civil disobedience?"

"When you break a law, there are always consequences," Peter told him. "If not for you, then for others." _For me. For Elizabeth. We can't lose you._ It could have been Neal in that proof of life tape, scared and lost, and that didn't bear thinking about. Neal consigned to a Burmese prison, and no way for Peter to reach him, let alone negotiate his release. Peter was relieved they'd won Chris Harlow's freedom, but he'd spent a restless night the night before, worrying about the risks Neal might take, the costs to all of them.

Peter hated feeling helpless.

But Neal's train of thought had led him elsewhere. "Didn't Wilson tell you? I asked him what would happen to Suu Ram, and he said US Intelligence reports confirmed she's been cleared of any suspicion of cooperating with us. Wilson was even prepared to offer her political asylum, if she needed it, but she turned him down. Apparently she's related to one of the Generals."

Peter blinked, surprised out of his selfish thoughts. Ordinarily, the fates of everyone implicated in a case were decided by the FBI or the Justice system, but Wilson had come to Peter and Neal unofficially, and Hughes had waived most of the paperwork for once. Peter hadn't yet made time to sit down and determine who'd been affected and what actions, if any, the Bureau should take. And regardless of her political affiliations, it was good to know Suu Ram wasn't in trouble for falling for Neal's scam and failing to properly guard the diplomatic pouch. "The State Department offered her asylum?"

"Wilson said he owed me." Neal shrugged. "It was Mozzie's idea."

"Mozzie." Peter had underestimated the little guy. It was humbling to be shown up by a professional criminal—not even a real CI.

"I think he was feeling bad about the smoke bomb malfunctioning." Neal grinned. "He's never going to live that down."

"You did good," said Peter warmly. "Both of you." He was starting to rely on them, Neal's team of two, starting to accept their flexible approach to problem solving. And it seemed they, in turn, were beginning to consider the repercussions of their scams, recognizing that there was a wider picture. Peter swept his hand down Neal's back, holding him close. "I'm proud of you."

"Right back atcha," said Neal. "That business with the parking tickets was surprisingly sexy."

"Oh, you liked that?" Peter put his worries aside for later and returned Neal's grin. "Since when did you get a thing for obstructive bureaucracy?"

Neal laughed. "Twisting my words and using them against me, just like a lawman. Maybe if you—"

He was interrupted by the phone, and he and Peter tussled a little, reaching for the receiver. Peter won by virtue of superior strength. "Hey, hon. How's San Francisco?"

"Lonely," she said, her pout almost audible. "I swear, I'm going to find someone to take over the West Coast side of my business. Did the case turn out okay? Is Neal there?"

"He's here," said Peter. "But I'd like to think you called to talk to me, too."

She laughed. "That depends—do you have an opinion on Dom Pérignon versus Veuve Clicquot?" She didn't wait for his reply, just started telling him about her clients. Neal went to open the bedroom door so that Satchmo could come in and shed on all their clothes, and Peter thought that whatever the risks, whatever the costs, he had two brilliant, extraordinary people who loved him. If there were problems, they'd figure them out together. They could. Everything would be okay.


End file.
